


We Hug, We Kiss, I Bandage Your Wrists

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [11]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/F, FUCK, Idiots, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, self-sabotage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:46:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Louis got drunk and had parties and let anyone take advantage of what amounted to hospitality but what was really a desperate attempt to distract himself. He held parties and invited everyone and let them invite everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Hug, We Kiss, I Bandage Your Wrists

**Author's Note:**

> UGH I STARTED THIS FUCKING SERIES JUST WANTING TO WRITE A STUPID GEN-FIC ABOUT LOUIS HATING HIMSELF GODDAMN IT THIS IS WILDLY OUT OF HAND! AND THIS CHAPTER IS STUPIDLY LONG  
> DON’T GET MAD AT ME
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. I love puns  
> 2\. This is really long  
> 3\. Writing a seven-person conversation is fucking hard  
> 4\. Love me
> 
> xx

Not that his promises of friendship made anything less complicated—things settled into a kind of rhythm eventually, but it was stilted and weird, none of them trusting one another in any effective manner.

So Louis got drunk and had parties and let anyone take advantage of what amounted to hospitality but what was really a desperate attempt to distract himself. He held parties and invited everyone and let them invite everyone else. He didn’t care if his parents (well, his mother and his stepfather) minded once he realized they hadn’t spoken to him in a week.

One Saturday night found him standing on the balcony attached to his bedroom, basking in the strange and foreign feeling of the wind on his forehead. He wasn’t sure how many pills he had taken or how many he had given away. He thought maybe it was ten at night but it could easily have been three in the morning. His vision was fizzing and bright, the way he liked it. He clutched the railing of the balcony, wondering just how far up in the air he was.

“Jumping off would really put a damper on things,” a smooth voice called from behind him.

“Hi, Zayn. Not contemplating suicide, just needed some air.”

“Yeah, me too. Your weird friend keeps following me around asking about my tattoos.”

“Leave Harry alone,” Louis snapped.

“Territorial, are we? Fine, I’ll leave off your puppydog.” Zayn lit up a cigarette, leaning on the balcony railing next to Louis.

“I just—don’t need any more fucking drama. It’s so exhausting, innit.”

“You realize you bring it on yourself.”

“Only some of it. Need a reason to get up in the morning, no?”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Whatever. I’m like really out of it right now.” Louis took a deep, cooling breath. “What time is it?”

“Elevish.” Zayn stubbed out his cigarette and lit up a spliff instead. “Why?”

‘I’ve just—lost track of it all. Weird how that happens.”

“You’re on some good stuff, aren’t you?”

“One of the perks of the lifestyle other people have earned for me.”

“And the downsides?”

“Yeah, well.”

“Niall broke the ceiling fan in your kitchen.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you out here?”

“I didn’t know you smoked. Spliff, I mean.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t know me.”

“That’s true.” Louis inhaled slowly, focusing on the utterly comforting feeling of cool air on his cheeks. “Have you seen Lotite?”

“No. Got too distracted by the queue of people taking body shots of off Harry.”

“Oh.”

“It’s quite a long line.”

“Well he’s got quite a nice body.”

“S’pose.” Zayn paused. “You’re not going to do something about it?”

“Like what? I’m not his keeper. Far be it from me to tell him not to take his shirt off.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“Hardly.” Louis shrugged, turning around to go back inside. “Do you know how many pills I’ve taken?”

“No.”

Louis nodded, leaving the balcony and Zayn behind him. He ambled clumsily into the house, nearly tripping down the long staircase as he attempted to make it to the ground floor. Stopping in the front room, he saw a petite blonde girl dip her head into the hollow of Harry’s hips—Harry, who was lying on the table, a blissed-out expression on his face.

Louis spun around, nearly falling over again, before he left the room. The kitchen was too loud for him—someone’s mobile emitting thumping bass music, and large clutches of chattering drunk guests, and a noisy blender mixing bright drinks. He thought maybe the basement would be quieter, thought maybe he could drown himself in the pool without too much fuss.

He was gratified to find fewer people in the basement than were upstairs. Squinting through the fizzy humid air—was the air really fizzing?—he spotted familiar figures in the pool. He watched silently as Niall hoisted Lottie onto his shoulders, hearing her squeal slightly as she pitched forward.

“Come on, Lex,” she wheedled, smiling at her girlfriend. Her girlfriend was probably cute, Louis mused, but he was having trouble with his vision somehow. “Liam won’t let you fall.” Lexi shrugged, letting Liam move her onto his broad shoulders. He clutched her shins, walking forward amidst loud laughter from Niall. Lottie grabbed Lexi’s hands in her own smaller ones. “I can’t believe you’ve never played chicken before.”

Louis plopped down onto the floor, letting his feet dangle into the pool. Though Lottie had been dating (or whatever) Lexi for more than a month, Louis was unsure if he had ever heard the girl speak before. He watched the way she bit her lip over a smile whenever she looked at Lottie. His stomach clenched.

He watched Lottie and Lexi grapple with one another artlessly for a few minutes until Niall collapsed into the water with a loud laugh. He and Lottie surfaced momentarily, chuckling and spluttering wildly.

“Good game, fair and square,” Niall said, giving Lottie a high-five.

“You should come ‘round more often, you’re a right laugh,” Lottie responded, returning his gesture. Then she held her hands up to Lexi, who carefully slid off of Liam’s shoulders and into Lottie’s embrace. With another laugh, Lottie dragged Lexi underwater with her, arms around her waist.

“Hey, Lou, didn’t see you come in,” Liam said, wading over to his spot on the side of the pool.

“Just was getting some air, you know. Stuffy upstairs,” he said as Liam placed two hands on his knees, ducking in closer.

“Louis! Louis, I broke one of the pool chairs. I’m sorry!” Niall called, voice bright.

“Thought you broke the ceiling fan,” Louis said slowly.

“Oh, I broke that too.” Niall bit his lip.

“You’re like—a menacing Irish tornado, aren’t you?”

“I’ll pay you back. Probably.”

“Niall,” Liam said warningly. 

“I’ll pay you back!” Niall insisted.

“I’ll forget about it by tomorrow anyway.”

Liam tipped Louis’ chin with his thumb and one finger. “Your pupils are huge.”

“Yeah. ’M fucking high.”

“Oh, did you smoke with Zayn?” Niall asked, running his hands through his wet hair and shaking it out like a dog. Lottie and Lexi drifted away from them, closer to the shallow end of the pool.

“No. Think he’s up on my balcony f’you wanna join him, though.”

“Nah, too cold right now.” Niall splashed gently in the water.

“Here,” Louis said next, shoving his hand into one pocket, extracting a small baggie. “Take some.”

“Thanks.” Niall pulled himself out of the pool, grabbing a towel before sitting down next to Louis. He took the bag and down a pill with a dry swallow. “Liam?”

“I’m fine for now.” He leaned onto his arms, placed on Louis’ knees. “You good?”

“Huh,” Niall interrupted, handing the nearly-empty baggie back to Louis.

“What?” Louis asked slowly, watching water droplets work their way down Liam’s cheeks.

“Just realized everyone’s, like, really gay down here right now.”

“Like seeks like,” Louis agreed, running his thumb across Liam’s forehead.

“M’thirsty,” Liam said, grabbing Louis’ hand gently.

“Want me to get you something?”

“Nah I can get something. Be back.” Liam planted his arms on the side of the pool, barely straining to lift his body out of the water. He padded away without drying off, Louis watching his retreating figure.

“It doesn’t bug you, then?” Louis asked Niall, kicking his feet vaguely into the water. He watched Lottie and Lexi float against one another languidly, his throat tight.

“I don’t give a solitary fuck, mate.”

“Most people do.”

“M’I most people?”

“No. Guess not.”

“Exactly.” Niall dropped onto his back, feet dangling in the water near Louis’ legs. Silence built up around them as people shifted, moving upstairs or into other rooms or out into the back garden. Louis vaguely registered when Lottie and her girlfriend got out of the pool, intent as he was on the feeling of the water tickling around his feet.

“Hey,” Niall said suddenly, quietly. He threw out a hand, connecting with Louis’ forearm.

“Yeah?”

“The ceiling’s not actually pulsing, is it? It’s pulsing along with my heartbeat, I think.” Niall pointed lazily to the ceiling, which stood meters above their heads.

“Is it?”

“Think so.

“That’s quite a feat.”

“What? No, my feet are in the water.”

“What?”

“I dunno.” Niall began giggling, arms dropping to his sides.

“Come on. Let’s go back upstairs.” Louis reached out and grabbed Niall’s arm, hoisting them both to their feet.

As they traipsed up the stairs, Louis detected thudding dance music and raucous catcalls. He silently congratulated whoever had managed to figure out his stepfather’s complicated stereo system, dropping Niall’s arm as they reached the ground floor. He found Liam against the wall in the living room, still wearing only soggy swim trunks but now holding a plastic cup in one hand. He was scowling, so Louis scanned the room, snorting when he saw Harry animatedly talking to Zayn, who was frowning at him, arms crossed.

“Be back.” Niall darted away from them, presumably to get something to drink. Louis shrugged before he realized Niall was already gone.

“Hey,” Liam said, voice too quiet amidst the din.

“What’re you scowling at?”

“Nothing. Wasn’t.”

“Okay. What’re you drinking?”

“I don’t actually know.” Liam peered down into his cup. “It’s pink, though.”

“That’s good. Um, I’ll be back. I’m gonna get something to drink too.” Louis walked away, shaking off a sense of awkwardness. He chocked up his foreboding to whatever number of pills he’d already swallowed that night.

He sidled up to the kitchen island, surveying drink options. As he was about to grab a bottle of vodka, Lottie cupped his elbow in her hand. “Hey, Lou, Lexi’s not feeling well. M’gonna put her to bed in my room, k?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Got everything covered?”

“Covered as it can be, yeah.” She gave him a small salute before clasping Lexi’s hand and leading her out of the kitchen. Louis looked around before walking over to Niall. “Make me one of whatever you’re having?” he requested.

“Sure. S’probably gonna annihilate you though,” he warned.

“Ha, annihilate. Niall-ate.” Louis prodded Niall in the ribs. “Hope it does.”

Niall shrugged, pouring out the drinks into two plastic cups before handing Louis one. He drank it down in four large gulps, nearly gagging at the aftertaste. Niall clapped him on the back.

“Good luck,” he wished Louis before leaving the room.

Louis twirled in a half-circle, rounding his way into the foyer and away from the overwhelming noise of the rest of the house. He sat down on the bottom step of the long staircase to the first floor, trying to catch his breath.

He lost track of time, lost track of how long he had sat there before he heard soft footsteps on the carpeted stairs behind him. “Hey Lou,” Lottie murmured, plopping down next to him. She ran her fingers through her wet hair.

“Hey. She all right?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Dunno. Think so.”

“Oh.” Lottie leaned sideways, putting her head on Louis’ shoulder. “I need a drink. Come on.”

Louis traipsed back through the house yet again, feeling as though his life were moving in circles he couldn’t keep track of. He poured himself a vodka-soda, eyeing the crowd, trying not to let the music crack his head open. He retreated around the island, sitting down on a barstool.

“Hey!” Harry said, loping over to him through the crowded room. “Haven’t seen you much tonight.” He ducked down to speak into Louis’ ear.

“Every time I spot you, you look busy.”

“Never too busy, not for you.

“I dunno. Body shots can be pretty entertaining.”

“Yeah, think I’m still kinda sticky from those.” Harry plucked at the hem of his t-shirt absently. “M’gonna get a drink.”

Louis propped his head up with one hand, the scene around him moving quickly then slowly only to move quickly again. He managed to take in some of what was happening—his brain only caught up when he saw some guy drunkenly stumble into Harry roughly. Harry fell forward, his hands out to catch his fall, only to break right through a pane of glass in the kitchen window.

He heard the drunk guy swear and apologize, heard a girl scream at the sight of Harry’s blood just as Louis got to his feet to assess the damage. The crowd of people stilled, allowing Louis to elbow his way forward to see that Lottie had already turned on the kitchen faucet and ushered Harry toward the sink, cold water streaming over his forearms so she could see his wounds.

“Get a towel,” she demanded, peering intently at Harry’s cuts and scratches. She exhaled softly, nodding. “You’ll be okay, Haz, these aren’t very deep. S’no glass stuck in your arms, either.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, voice quiet, his face pale. His chin quivered.

Louis picked up a kitchen towel and handed it to Lottie. He yelled for everyone to clear out of the room before he swept up the stray glass, haphazardly, wanting to move it out of the way so no one else bled in the goddamn kitchen. He threw the debris away, ducking forward to run his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“Come on,” Lottie said, her hands pressing the towel against Harry’s arms. “let’s take him upstairs. I think we have plasters upstairs.”

“Hey,” Louis murmured quietly, arm wrapped around Harry’s back. “You’ll be all right. It’s fine. You’re fine.” Harry nodded, eyes bright and suspiciously shiny. “You’re good, we’ll get you fixed up in the bathroom.”

“Hey, Lexi’s asleep in mine,” Lottie remembered. “Don’t wanna wake her up if she’s still feeling poorly.”

“Got some plasters in my bathroom, last I checked. S’fine.”

Lottie and Harry sat down on Louis’ bed, Lottie still pressing down on his arms. Louis collected plasters, a clean wet flannel, and some alcohol swabs he found in the bottom of a drawer.

“How’d you know so much about this?” Harry whispered.

“No stranger to cuts,” she responded, gesturing with her chin to her own scarred forearm.

“Oh. I didn’t—”

“Don’t.” She held out a hand to Louis, who gave her the flannel. “You’ll be all right, babes. Sorry if this stings a little.” She pressed the cloth onto his skin.

He hissed, shutting his eyes. “Ow.”

“Hey,” Louis said, grabbing Harry’s shoulders. “Look at me.” Harry’s eyelids fluttered open, meeting Louis’ gaze. “We’ve got you. You’re all right, you’re being so good.” He smoothed down Harry’s hair, pressing his fingers in. “It’s all right.”

Lottie dabbed at the shallow scratches with the alcohol pads. “Sorry, Haz. Just want to make sure it’s clean before I put the plasters on.”

“He’s fine,” Louis murmured. “He’s being so good. Nearly done, yeah? I got you.” He ruffled Harry’s hair again, hardly paying attention to what Lottie was doing.

“Nearly done,” Lottie agreed, opening a large plaster and placing it gently on his left arm. “Oh these are even shallower—they’ve already stopped bleeding.”

“That’s good,” Louis murmured. “So good, H.”

Harry sniffled, nodding slightly. “Just clumsy.”

“Hey, no way. Some dickhead knocked into you. Nothing to do with you. Just a drunk idiot not watching what he was doing.”

“You’re all patched up. You want anything for the pain? Paracetemol? Something stronger?” Lottie asked, crumpling up the plaster wrappers.

“No, m’okay. Just need a minute.” He stood up, lanky legs wobbly, to head to the bathroom.

“Think I’m gonan go kick that guy out,” Louis said slowly with an encouraging nod from Lottie. He walked around telling people to fuck off, claiming the neighbors had called the police on them.

“It’s barely two am!” one guest—Louis didn’t know her name—complained.

“Don’t know what to tell you. Stick around if you want an underage drinks arrest on your record. Otherwise call a taxi.”

She huffed. “Max can give me a ride.”

“Good for Max.”

He found Liam, Zayn, and Niall in the kitchen, each having bet the others to go shot-for-shot. Louis watched for a moment, arms crossed, before he rummaged in the pantry for a piece of cardboard to duct-tape over the broken window.

“What happened?” Liam asked, knocking back a shot.

“Someone put a fist through the window.”

“Fuck off!” Niall crowed, laughing. “No way.”

“Yeah. Sick of the crowds, had to kick people out.”

“Want help with that?” Liam offered softly. “Or cleaning?”

“I’ll call someone to do it. Cleaning and the window. In the morning.”

“What about your parents?” Zayn asked, pouring himself a new shot.

“What about them?” Louis replied before leaving the room. He ushered some straggling guests out the front door. He lit up a cigarette, sagging his body against the wall that led into the front room.

The doorbell rang two minutes later, and he groaned, heaving himself to his feet. “Hey, Gemma,” he greeted her, wearily unsurprised to see her. “Did Harry call you?”

“Yeah. Where is he?” Her arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth pinched.

“Come on up.” He let her in and led her to the first floor. “He’s more than welcome to stay here, you know. Whenever.”

“I think you’ve done enough, actually.”

“Oh. Right.” Louis cleared his throat. “Erm. He’s in my room, Lottie and I were—” he began before he came to a startled stop just inside his doorway.

Lottie was curled sideways with her head in Harry’s lap, her face covered, sobs coming from behind her hands. He was making soothing noises and rubbing her back with both hands, eyes gone dark with concern.

“Lots,” Louis growled, dropping onto his knees next to the bed. “Look—what’s—what happened?”

“I can’t really understand what she’s saying, it’s a bit—um, garbled,” Harry whispered. “I think I heard her say that someone, um, Josh is a fucking bastard and apparently Lexi’s the nicest person ever, and then something about a baby?”

“Okay, I’ve got—move over now, please. _Please._ Um, Gemma’s here,” Louis added, gesturing over his shoulder with one thumb. Still on his knees, he put his hands around Lottie’s wrists, trying to gently move her hands away from her face.

“Gemma?” Lottie croaked, flinging her arms open, nearly hitting both Louis and Harry.

“Oh sweetie, hi,” Gemma said, her voice suddenly soft as she surged forward to collect Lottie into a hug.

“I missed you,” Lottie sobbed into Gemma’s shoulder, their hair mingling together so that they looked very messy and very, very blonde.

Louis gave Harry a stricken look, eyes wide. Harry shrugged, moving off the bed so that Gemma had room to lean in to Lottie’s embrace. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wringing his hands and shuffling from foot to foot. Louis leaned backward onto his haunches, watching Gemma comfort his younger sister. He was more than useless.

Louis peered up at Harry from the floor, biting the inside of his cheek. He lifted one hand to Harry, who clutched it gratefully.

“You too, pretty girl,” Gemma murmured soothingly, holding the back of Lottie’s head. “Talk to me, okay? The lads’ll leave and we can talk.”

Lottie nodded, clutching tighter to Gemma, who shooed them from the room. Harry yanked Louis to his feet and they quietly left the room. Louis immediately collapsed onto the floor in the corridor, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” Harry said, kneeling in front of Louis and gripping one of his calves. “Hey.”

“I—I’m. Have to kill him. Have to.”

“What?”

“She’s fucking _fourteen,_ Haz, and she had to do that alone. Okay, not alone, but with me, and we all know I’m totally useless.”

“But she—I mean, if she didn’t tell you who, I mean—”

“I should have done something about it anyway.”

“Lou?” Liam called from somewhere downstairs. “Hey, where’d you go?”

Louis shook his head, getting to his feet to look down over the railing into the foyer. “I’ll be down in a little, just taking care of Lottie!” he called. “Gimme a few, she doesn’t feel well.”

“Oh. Kay. Zayn and Niall are gonna go smoke out in the back garden, I’ll be out there with them!”

“Sounds good.”

Harry frowned at him from where he was still kneeling on the floor. “I just—I asked her about her cuts, and she told me some, you know. About the baby. That you were the only one she could ask to, you know. Take her. Take care of her. And all that.”

Louis snorted, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. “That’s like the bare minimum of decency, Haz. Don’t patronize me.”

“Why did you try to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t. It really was an accident. I just didn’t care about the consequences.”

“Well she does. So maybe don’t do that again.” Harry sighed, rubbing his hands across his face. “And maybe try to get her to see that therapist of yours.” He held up his arms. “She fixed me up like she’s an A&E doc, I swear. How long has she been doing that?”

“Cutting? I only found out about it—fuck. Like six months ago. Um. How are you, by the way? You called Gemma?”

“I, yeah. Just wanted to go home.”

“I kicked everyone out, pretty much.”

“I can tell.”

“You can always stay, if you want. Or whatever.”

“What, and break more of your fancy house?”

“Niall broke like three times as many things as you did, and I’m fairly sure the ceiling fan he did on purpose.” Louis exhaled a defeated breath, snapping his head up when he heard his bedroom door open.

“Hey,” Gemma said, giving him a wary smile. “I put her to sleep in your bed, hope you don’t mind. She was kind of insistent.”

“Thank you,” Louis breathed, “you didn’t—have to do anything of that, Christ, thank you.” He took his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his palms along his thighs. Tentatively, he walked over and gave her a hug, which she returned after a moment.

“Yeah,” she eventually replied, pulling away. “All right. You gonna tell me what the hell happened?”

“With her? In general? Tonight?”

“All of the above,” she commanded, voice once again hard.

“Right. Um. You’re probably gonna want to sit down. And, like, maybe have a drink.”

“He’s not wrong,” Harry said in a low voice, shrugging from where he was still kneeling on the ground.

Louis led them both into the kitchen, fixing himself a pint glass of vodka with soda water. As Gemma and Harry sat at the dark-wood table, he asked them what they wanted to drink.

She eyed him speculatively and responded, “Can I just get a beer?”

“Sure. What about you, Haz?”

“Whatever. Same’s fine.”

Louis retrieved two bottles of whatever fancy beer his stepfather stocked—Louis hated beer more than he hated being told what time to get up in the morning—and sat at the table, tucking his legs up beneath him. “Where do you want me to start?”

She stared pointedly at Harry, who flushed slightly.

“A drunk arsehole shoved him into the window.” Louis gestured behind him to the cardboard-covered hole in the wall. “He caught himself on his fists. Lottie and I cleaned everything up, we sanitized his scratches, we bandaged him up. Mum used to be a nurse, before my stepfather came into the picture.”

“Harry?” she asked next.

“It was more shocking than anything. I’m fine.”

“And I’m expected to believe you?” Gemma shot Harry a wounded look. “Come on, Bean. Tell me the truth.”

“I am fine. The cuts were shallow, they stopped bleeding like right away. It doesn’t really hurt. They fixed it, Lottie and Louis fixed me. It wasn’t his fault.”

“I’m still upset with you,” she added, pointing to Louis, “for a lot of reasons.”

“You and everyone else,” Louis muttered.

“Shut up. What the hell happened to that little girl and where the hell are her parents?” Gemma slammed her hands down onto the surface of the table, startling Harry.

“Belize, probably. Maybe Nice. I lost track some time in the middle of last month.” Louis shrugged. “I haven’t heard from them all week.”

“Damn it, Lou, she needs her parents!”

“She has _me.”_

“No, I don’t—I didn’t mean that. But you can’t solve everything, all right? She’s a kid.”

“She’s not a baby, she’s—fuck, she’s stronger than I am.”

“Lou,” Harry whispered, snaking a hand out to grab Louis’ wrist.

“I’ll take care of it,” Louis promised, voice firm. He let Harry hold onto his wrist. “She can—go to my therapist, or we can find one for her, and she can do this.”

“Who is he?” she asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Louis added miserably, dropping his face onto the tabletop. “She won’t tell me.”

“Lou. You’re her brother. You’re not her mum, not her sister. You’re not her friend.”

“I’m all she has.” Louis raised his head off the table, feeling his eyes prick with wet-hot tears. “Besides—I mean. I’m—sort of all she has.”

“She has us too, and her girlfriend. And her friends,” Harry reminded him.

“We moved here like, what, eight months ago? How many people can she really know?”

“How many people do you know?” Gemma gave him another smile, a smile he knew he didn’t deserve. “Besides your parents, besides the girls. What’s your support system? How are you even surviving here?”

Louis inhaled sharply, digging into his pocket for his medication and for his pills and for his cigarettes. “This is how I survive. This shit and a couple other things. Sorry if that’s a shitty thing to say, but hey. If it keeps me around to take care of her, I’m not too fussed.”

“You’re a kid, Lou. You’re not even old enough to drink.”

“I am, actually, Gem. Old enough to drink. And I—I really love you, and I missed you to pieces, but I can’t really handle—the enormity of this situation right now. It’s four in the morning. And I can’t.” Louis coughed out the sob he’d been holding in for fifteen minutes. “Please. Are you guys staying over?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding. “Yeah, we are.”

“I’ll make up the guests rooms for you.”

***  
Louis woke up early, squinting into the shady light of the study, where he had fallen asleep. Stretching out, feeling his joints creek, he groaned. He estimated it was nine in the morning, and his only consolation was that he was no longer high.

He scrambled to his feet, padding upstairs to check on his sister. His head was fuzzy rather than fizzy, his vision gone back to feeling gray. He knocked quietly on the door to his own bedroom before cracking it open.

“Lot, I—holy shit,” he whispered, striding forward into the room, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. He shook Liam awake abruptly, muttering into the dark morning air. “What the fuck?”

“Huh?” Liam mumbled from where he was curled on his side, pressed into Louis’ mattress.

“What the fuck are you doing in bed with my sister?”

“What? I don’t—is that Lottie?”

“Christ almighty, get out here.” He grabbed Liam’s shoulder and hustled him out of bed, shoving him into the corridor. “What the fuck?”

“Why was—was that Lottie?”

“Yeah, she didn’t feel well so we put her to bed in my room, what of it?”

“I thought you were asleep in your room!”

“You slept with my sister?”

“No, fuck no, I slept in a bed with your sister, gross!”

“I slept in the study!”

“Why?”

“Cuz she was asleep in my bed, obviously!”

“Oh god. I’m—ugh, sorry. Nothing happened!”

 _“Of course_ nothing happened, oh _god.”_

“Lou. Come on.”

“I’m a bad brother, Liam.”

“Nothing happened! I would never—I would never do anything! You know that!”

“I’m a bad—I can’t take care of her, Li, and she needs someone. She does.”

“I don’t understand, Lou. I don’t know what you mean.”

“She—she needs, like, a mum, or someone around to take care of her.”

“You—take care of her?”

“I don’t know how. I don’t, I don’t know how,” Louis choked out, clutching onto Liam’s shirt, onto his shoulders, onto his collarbones. “I can’t, what am I doing?”

“You’re being a good brother.”

“I need to—I—” He cut his words off and went back into his own room, kneeling beside Lottie’s sleeping form. “Lot, babes. Hey.” He patted her hair gently. “You awake?”

“I am now, prick,” she muttered, tongue smacking against the roof of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?”

“My room.”

“Oh.”

“You remember what—”

She interrupted him. “I remember everything except falling asleep, yeah.” She rubbed the back of her hand against her eyelids. “Is Gemma still here?”

“I convinced her and Harry to sleep in the guest rooms.”

“Good.” Lottie paused. “Is that good?”

“What would you rather they do?”

“I mean, I dunno. Harry’s, like. He’s Harry.”

“Liam’s my boyfriend, also know as _please be quiet,_ my amazing sister whom I adore. And maybe brush your teeth.”

“Fine.” She blinked rapidly, pursing her lips angrily. “Seriously, I’m fine. I am.”

“Lots, you’re not fine. At all.”

“Lou,” she wheedled, burrowing further into the duvet.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

“There’s nothing to do, Lou. It happened ages ago.”

“It didn’t, though. You sobbed yourself to sleep last night in Gemma’s arms.”

“What, jealous you didn’t fall asleep with Harry last night? Arse.”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice here.”

“No you’re not, you’re trying to appease your guilt.”

“Fuck, god. You’re my sister. You really think I don’t care about you? Enough to do anything for you?”

“When have—when? When has this ever come up?”

“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him for you, if you want, even if it—but it means going to prison and leaving you—and I just. Lots. I’m here, all right, for you, and you’re not, you’re not okay.” Louis dropped his head onto the mattress. “Don’t leave me, not like this.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m allowed to be sad without going anywhere.”

“Do—do you need mum, like? Or your dad? Is that it?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Too late for all of that shit. Just need—not to be fooled by people who don’t care for me.”

“I’ll—why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d kick him to death. And I need you. I don’t need him, but I need you, and that’s what I knew. And I know that maybe he’s not going anywhere but you would, if you tried to hurt him. Don’t kill him, you idiot.” Lottie kicked at the blanket. “I’m allowed to have a drunken cry every now and again. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“It felt like a big deal.”

“Nah it was just my chance to be the drama queen for once. That’s all.” She stretched. “Make me breakfast, big brother?” She gave him a wide grin.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Fine. Make me a bloody Mary and help me get this horrible crick out of my neck.”

Lottie grabbed one of Louis’ jumper and put it on over her clothes, padding out of the room behind him. She spotted Liam in the corridor and snorted. “You’re snuggly, by the way,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Oh my god,” Liam groaned, covering his face with both hands.

“This is hilarious,” Lottie added with a smirk.

“No, it’s creepy, stop it,” Louis said, flicking Lottie’s arm lightly as he started down the stairs.

“Shan’t!” she called. “Come on, Liam, Louis’ making us breakfast.”

They trudged into the kitchen, Liam immediately sitting down at the table and dropping his head onto the dark wooden surface. “Is everyone else still asleep?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Dunno, guess so.”

“I’m awake!” Niall called from what Louis’ stepfather called the sitting room—which was apparently the proper title for the expansive room that held the television and stereo system. “Zayn is too, I think,” he added, entering the kitchen while scratching his stomach.

“Yeah, cuz Niall just yelled into my ear,” Zayn groaned, trailing along behind him.

“Toad in a hole, please!” Lottie requested.

“In exchange for—?” 

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Thanks, kid.” Despite only having gotten five hours of sleep, Louis felt—okay. He kept a sharp eye on Lottie, falling into a semi-domestic routine with her, shifting around one another as they worked. He made breakfast, she mixed drinks.

Gemma and Harry entered the kitchen together, the latter looking as though he had just woken up. Louis supposed Gemma had roused him from sleep when she heard the rest of them making noise.

“Morning,” Louis called from in front of the stove, spatula in one hand. “How’d we all sleep?”

“Good,” Harry croaked, voice thick with sleep. He sat down by Zayn, Gemma choosing to sit by Lottie.

“Not me,” Zayn groaned. “Niall kicks in his sleep.”

Liam frowned, not commenting on how he slept. Instead he asked, “Don’t you have a cook?”

Lottie piped up. “I’m teaching him to be a good househusband.”

“No way. I’m only here for the positive reinforcement.” He held his glass aloft, taking a sip of his cocktail.

“How Pavlovian. You salivate when you hear bottles clink together?” Harry asked, ruffling his wavy fringe.

Louis laughed. “Shit, don’t tell me you actually started paying attention during Dr. Cohen’s class? Kudos.” He flipped some bread in the pan.

“It was a lot easier to pay attention when you weren’t constantly distracting me.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Maybe you should study psychology, then. Prescribe crazy people their meds or give them inkblot tests.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve got time to figure it out.”

“All I’m saying is, you’d make a great history professor,” Gemma said, fiddling with the empty glass in front of her.

“Hi,” Niall said. “Are you Harry’s sister?”

“Yes,” she responded slowly. “Is it obvious, or—”

“Yeah. You’re both really pretty.”

 _“Niall,”_ Zayn groaned.

“What? Can’t a heterosexual guy acknowledge when another guy and his sister are pretty?”

“Thank you, Niall,” she said drily. “I’m Gemma.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Shameless flirt,” Liam added, rolling his eyes. “I’m Liam. This is Zayn.”

She nodded as though pretending to absorb this information before raising her brows sarcastically as she ducked her head down.

“Hey, Haz, tattoos later this week?” Lottie asked, clapping her hands. “We can’t put it off forever.”

“Oh yeah, I was just talking about that yesterday. Zayn refuses to go with us because he thinks I’m a moron,” Harry drawled, smiling sweetly at Lottie.

“I never said that,” Zayn replied in an embarrassed voice.

“No, I can tell. It’s phrenology.” Harry shrugged. “Seriously, none of you guys have heard of that? What are you doing with your time?”

“It’s a debunked science, Haz. You can’t look at Zayn’s skull and tell that he thinks you’re a moron,” Louis called, stacking more food onto a serving platter so he could deliver it to the table. “Which you’re not.”

“S’pose his face speaks volumes,” Harry said with a small smile.

 _“Anyway,”_ Gemma interrupted, clearing her throat, “joining the club of the recently tattooed, then?” 

“Yep.” Lottie pulled two pieces of eggy bread from the platter Louis placed by her. “Showing my eternal commitment to poetry, peaches, and coffee spoons.”

“Are you old enough for that?” Gemma asked, poking a fork into a piece of bread before setting it on her plate. She leaned forward to hear what Lottie was saying, trying to cut down on the chattering noise from the others at the table.

“Technically or emotionally?”

“Legally.”

“Probably not.”

“Lottie, anywhere that will give a fourteen-year-old a tattoo is probably a shithole.”

“I would never go to a shithole,” Lottie muttered, pouting slightly.

“Just—be careful. You could get hepatitis or something.”

She crinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“Yeah. I didn’t really have any say in Hazza getting his tattoos underage cuz he was still living with our mum and I’d already—I already lived in London. Just do it right, yeah?”

“Right.” Lottie crinkled her nose further and took another bite of her food, shifting her attention back to Harry and Zayn.

“Um.” Zayn leaned sideways, giving Harry’s arm a glance. “What happened there, mate?”

“Oh. Broke the window. With my body, I guess.”

“What, skinny old you?”

“Oi, Zayn, who are you calling skinny?” Louis pointed out, fixing himself a third drink. “Look at yourself.”

“Right, um. Just didn’t expect him to be able to Hulk out like that. That’s all.” Zayn dropped his eyes to his plate.

“More than meets the eye,” Lottie said, leaning over to poke Harry’s dimple. “Anyway, thanks for breakfast, Lou. I’m gonna fix Lexi a plate and offer her breakfast in bed.”

“I see how it is. I do all the work and you reap all the rewards.” Louis’ eyebrows shot up under his fringe.

“Don’t be gross,” Lottie replied, sticking her tongue out. She grabbed a tea tray, fresh cutlery, glassware, and a plate before leaving the room with Lexi’s food.

“Lexi?” Gemma asked, spearing another piece of eggy bread.

“Her girlfriend,” Harry and Louis said at once.

“Girl?”

“Hey, she’s been burned. I’m not judging who she rebounds with,” Louis said, shrugging. “Plus I still maintain my bicuriousity theory.”

“I don’t think Gem’s been privy to that particularly theory of yours,” Harry corrected with his mouth full.

“Oh. I believe, generally speaking, that everyone has a couple moments of panicked bicuriosty throughout the lifespan. Whether or not they act on ‘em.”

“Really?” Niall asked, face scrunched. “I don’t think I ever have.”

“Might be working with a skewed sample,” Zayn argued.

“No, it’s the perfect sample. Gay, really gay, pretty gay, rounding to bisexual, probably straight but flexible and curious, and still insists he’s straight. Gemma, I’m not going to assume your sexuality because that would be rude and also you kind of scare me.”

“I’m not _insisting_ I’m straight, I’m just pretty sure I am,” Niall said, still pulling a confused face.

“Same boat for me,” Gemma replied with a shrug. “Never really had a sexual crisis. Just went with what worked. Happened to be dudes.” Louis was gratified that she had stopped glaring at him—at least thus far into the morning.

“Me too,” Harry told her, laughing lightly.

“Did you just label each of us on the Kinsey scale?” Zayn asked, rolling his eyes.

“Is that still a thing people do?” Liam added next, though he had been fairly silent throughout breakfast. “The Kinsey thing?”

“I dunno. But I mean. I dated a couple girls, awhile back.” Louis took a large gulp of his drink, throat burning. He thought that if he kept talking, he could distract everyone from the terrible awkwardness pervading the room. “Which was weird. Actually. Looking back on it.” Louis frowned.

“You just flipped to boys because the girls wouldn’t have you,” Zayn stated, smirking.

“Wounding.” Louis rolled his eyes. “Your insults are getting worse. I think you need to go back to sleep. At your own house, perhaps, or maybe the bottom of a ditch.”

Harry and Gemma had a short, silent conversation using only their eyes. After a moment, Harry nodded. “Hey, Lou, can I use a shower? I should, um, check on these.” He stood up and raised his arms aloft.

“Seems like everyone made a bit of a mess last night,” Liam said quietly, biting his lips and staring daggers into Harry’s sharp hipbones.

Louis clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “Yeah,” he replied, voice bright. “Can’t believe Niall broke the ceiling fan.” He threw a balled-up serviette at Niall’s head. “But yeah, Haz, use whichever shower you want. I left the plasters and alcohol swabs on the counter up in mine.” He watched Harry leave the room to go upstairs. “Liam, babe, help me load the dishwasher?”

“Since when do you load the dishwasher?” Liam asked as Zayn shot them both a look of surprise.

“I’ve seen the error of my ways, I’m setting forth on the righteous path. Care to help?”

“Sure.”

They picked up the plates and cutlery from the table, brushing off everyone else’s offers to help. As they stacked everything into the dishwasher, Louis hissed, “You said you’d—Christ, I thought you’d at least try to be nice.”

“Wh—I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, you barely said anything all through breakfast except to make fun of Harry for _getting hurt.”_

“That’s not—no, I mean—he was sloppy all night, everyone was doing body shots off h—I just, what did he expect, what did you expect?”

Louis reeled back as though Liam had physically slapped him. “I expected you to be a decent human being, actually. And not judge him for doing exactly what you did, and what I did, and what your friends did.”

“It’s destructive and it’s—fuck it’s stupid, like he’s trying to make you jealous, or just make his life more miserable. Either way it’s stupid.”

“Since when is doing body-shots a fucking crime? Even if it was some idiotic self-sabotage attempt, _why do you fucking care?”_ Louis rattled the door of the dishwasher shut. “Because I’m gonna be honest with you, I didn’t give it a second thought until you brought it up. But now all I can really think of is how petty you’re being.” He spun around, plastering a large, fake smile on his face. “Hey make yourselves at home. I’m gonna call the cleaning people and someone to fix the window. First come first served on the showers!”

Louis stalked out of the room and up the stairs, his eyes watering despite himself.

“Fuck.”

 

He bustled round the house uselessly, assessing the damage from the party the night before, his mobile pressed to one ear. “Yeah, it’s a bit messier than usual. Might need an extra person, like? Yeah, two this afternoon is fine. Thanks.”

Then he sat in the front room, scrolling through his browser to find a window repair company open on a Sunday. He listened to the others move around the house as he mindlessly ran through names and hours of operation. He clutched his knee with one hand, making the call through gritted teeth.

Considering himself accomplished enough for a Sunday, he hung up and padded back into the kitchen. “Lads?” he asked, eyebrows knitted, surveying Zayn and Liam cautiously.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Niall just remembered he brought fireworks last. He dashed off to find them, Gemma intelligently decided to head for the hills, and Liam’s trying to think of a nice way of telling Niall to rethink all of his decisions lately.”

“And you?”

“Thinking I should buy stock in fire-extinguisher companies, all things considered.”

Louis chuckled, putting his mobile into his pocket.

“It’s not _that_ funny,” Liam said quietly. “He could lose an eye or something.”

“Yeah. I know. Just laughing to cover up how dead I am inside.”

“Louis!” Lia.m snapped.

“God, you two have issues,” Zayn muttered, standing up. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Maybe it’ll make me less flammable.”

“Luck with that,” Louis replied, eyes boring holes into Liam’s.

“Sort your shit out, you morons!” Zayn called, leaving the room.

“I’m going to take a shower because the cleaners and window guy arrive.”

“Isn’t Harry in your shower?” Liam asked coldly.

“If he is I’ll find a different one. We have a house full of them, after all.”

“Oh right, rich kid, I forgot.”

Louis pursed his lips. “Is this what this is supposed to be like? Dating? You shitting on me and my friends while letting everyone _you_ like off the hook? Because if it is, it’s not what I signed on for.”

“Fucking classic,” Liam muttered in response. “Already?”

“Already what?”

“Backing out.”

“I’m not backing out, I’m saying you’re acting like a dick. And it’s not cute.” Louis spun on his heel. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a bit, I need to wash the remnants of last night off my body.”

“Why does everything have to be this hard? Between us?”

“Have you stopped to take a look at us recently? When has anything ever come easy?”

“I think things have always come a bit easier to you than me.”

“Tell yourself that if you want. I’m going to go slit my wrists in the bath.”

“Stop making jokes like that.”

“Who says it’s a joke?” Louis stomped his way out of the room and up the lofty staircase, heading for an upstairs guest bathroom. He had no current intention of actually even doing a damn thing besides showering, yet he was fuming. He wondered when his anger would finally abate or if it ever would—if what was _wrong_ with him was so deeply ingrained that he would stay enraged forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally found a shirt today that has "WA_STED YOUTH" emblazoned on it, guys, I think it's fate.
> 
> If you want to yell at me, my tumblr is as follows:
> 
> musiclily.tumblr.com


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